


Whatever the Fuck

by hawksonfire



Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Jokes, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky is tired, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton's Farm, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Clint Barton, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Hurt Clint Barton, M/M, Morning Kisses, POV Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sleepy Kisses, Steve/Tony if you squint, and so does Bucky, but I love him, clint is such a loser, let my boys REST gdi, like really bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: They’ve fought so many goddamn aliens and robots and whatever the fuck else’s at this point, so Bucky’s just given up on knowing what it is he’s fighting now. He calls them all ‘whatever the fucks’, and Steve and his stupid grumbling of “They’re Klegin, Buck, a race of hostile aliens from the planet Grackerth!” can go suck an egg.Bucky is tired. He just wants to go back to his bed with his boyfriend - but his boyfriend has been kidnapped by a bunch of whatever the fucks and Bucky wants him back. So they can go back to bed. He's not asking for much, really.





	Whatever the Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bucky Barnes Bingo Square K5 - Domesticity.  
> Also written for Clint Barton Bingo Square B1 - Kidnapping.

**Bucky**

Bucky didn’t know when his life had gotten so... _Domestic_. He hadn’t even realized how used to a quiet, peaceful life he was until it was ripped away from him and shot into the sun. “Every _fucking_ time,” he growls to himself, slamming his metal arm through the skull of the _thing_ running at him, teeth bared.

“What’s that, Terminator?” Stark flies overhead, raining down small missiles and clearing Bucky’s path.

“Every fucking time,” Bucky says again, louder, “I try and retire to the middle of buttfuck nowhere to try and get some _goddamn rest_ , you fuckers call me up and beg me to come back.”

“You know you don’t have to say yes all the time,” Widow points out, twirling and stabbing her way through a small group of whatever the fucks. They’ve fought so many goddamn aliens and robots and whatever the fuck else’s at this point, so Bucky’s just given up on knowing what it is he’s fighting now. He calls them all ‘whatever the fucks’, and Steve and his stupid grumbling of “They’re Klegin, Buck, a race of hostile aliens from the planet Grackerth!” can go suck an egg.

“But then Steve gives me the Disappointment Look,” Bucky grumbles, “And I feel guilty so I come and help. Which just reinforces the idea that I’m always gonna be here to help in your minds. I need to learn how to say no.”

“Aw, c’mon Buck,” Steve cuts in, “It’s not so bad, is it? Fighting at my side again?”

“Considering I can’t actually remember the first through fortieth times I fought at your side, and I can _only_ assume you’ve been this much of a dumbass for your _entire_ life,” Bucky says, ripping the head off a whatever the fuck and hurling the body at the door he’s trying to get to, “I’m going to say yes, Steven, it is ‘so bad’.”

“Geez, Buck. All that time sitting around on your ass has liquefied your brain,” Steve mutters.

“Yeah, that’s what it was. Not the seventy years getting repeatedly fried by Hydra, or anything. Sitting on my ass is what ruined my memory.” Bucky reaches the door (finally, thank fuck) and pulls it open to reveal a person hanging from the ceiling by their wrists, limp. “Found him,” Bucky says curtly. He closes the door behind him and strides across the room, stepping in front of the person.

“Took you long enough,” he says, grinning up at Bucky.

“Next time you want french fries,” Bucky says fondly, ignoring the relief flowing through him, “Let’s just go to McDonald's.”

“Deal,” Clint says, “Cut me down? I’m good to walk.”

“Like hell you are.” Bucky snaps the chains holding Clint up with a twist of his fingers and catches Clint when he falls into his arms. “Shall we?” Bucky asks, handing Clint a gun.

“Aw, babe, you know I don’t like guns,” Clint whines, checking the magazine.

“I know, sweetheart, and I’m sorry,” Bucky kicks the door open and Clint starts firing, every shot finding a nice, cozy home in the skull of a _whatever the fuck_ (fuck you Steve). “But I didn’t have time to grab your bow, and honestly, it would’ve been ruined if I had to carry it through this mess on my way to you.”

“Fair,” Clint says, scrambling from Bucky’s arms onto his back, “Hey, did you finish the laundry I put in last night?”

“Yeah. You know you left a red sock in there this time?” Clint winces. “Yeah. Don’t worry though, the load was darks. Oh - I’ve been meaning to ask, we giving the Jacobs kid a job again this summer?”

“Yeah, why not?” The gun clicks in Clint’s hand, empty. Bucky pulls a spare magazine from his belt and hands it over, kicking a whatever the fuck in the chest as it tries to rip his other arm off. “We did last summer. ‘Sides, she seemed to enjoy it and it has to get done. And neither of us like doing it.”

“Alright,” Bucky agrees, reaching the jet, “I’ll give her Ma a call when we get back.” He sets Clint down on a chair carefully, grimacing at the beat-up man’s groan. “What’d they do? And don’t you lie to me, sweetheart.”

“Ribs, stomach, head, legs,” Clint rattles off, “Plus a few complimentary bruises everywhere else.” Bucky pulls out the first aid kit and gets to work, ignoring the rest of the team as they trickle in. He pulls off Clint’s shirt and Clint whistles. “Damn, babe, can’t wait until we get home?”

“Hold still,” Bucky says, wiping away the dirt and grime and blood on Clint’s chest. “You know damn well I’ll be all over you as soon as we’re away from prying eyes, sweetheart, but neither of us has an exhibitionism kink, unlike Steve.”

“Bucky!” Steve says, scandalized. Bucky ignores him (and the teasing his words have brought about - which, really, was his entire goal) and continues tending to Clint.

“Ooo, feisty,” Clint murmurs.

Bucky looks up at him from between his legs and smiles softly. “Only for you, darlin’,” he says, running a hand along Clint’s cheek. Clint leans into his touch, eyes drooping. “Sleep, sweetheart,” Bucky says, “I’ll keep you safe ‘til we’re home.”

“‘Kay,” Clint mumbles. Bucky moves to the bench next to him and wraps Clint in his arms, holding him tightly. Clint falls asleep in a matter of moments, exhausted, and Bucky stares down at his peaceful face, marred only by a cut across his forehead.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Bucky looks away from Clint to see Steve standing in front of them, a soft look on his face.

“I really do, Stevie,” he says. Steve sits down on Bucky’s other side and sighs, tension draining out of his limbs. “I’m done, Steve,” Bucky says. Steve blinks at looks at him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, searching Bucky’s face.

“I’m sure.” Bucky meets his eyes. “I don’t want to be running around fighting the various Villains of the Week anymore. I want to be at my home, with my Clint, doing my laundry and drinking my coffee. I want to wake up in the morning and kiss him awake with really bad morning breath. I want you to come over for family meals instead of mission planning. I’m tired, Steve.”

“That’s very...” Steve struggles for words. “Domestic of you, Buck.”

“Yeah, it is. Haven’t I earned that?” Something in Steve’s eyes softens when Bucky says that, and he nods.

“Yeah, you have. I’ll draw up the paperwork to put you on Reserve - F Class missions only.” Steve claps him on the shoulder and moves to get up, but Bucky stops him.

“One exception,” he says, tilting his head towards Clint’s sleeping figure.

“Yeah, Buck, alright,” Steve shakes his head, smiling softly. He walks to the other side of the jet and sits down beside Stark, who immediately starts bickering with him.

Bucky shakes his head and looks down at Clint again, smoothing some dirt-crusted hair away from his forehead. He presses a kiss to Clint’s forehead and settles in for the ride - keeping a tight grip on Clint the entire way home.

~~~~~~

The next morning, Bucky does exactly what he told Steve he wanted to do and wakes Clint up with morning breath scented kisses. “Aw, babes, you stink!” Clint mutters, half-heartedly pushing Bucky’s face away.

“You love my stink,” Bucky teases, pressing his lips against Clint’s chest so he can feel the vibrations of Bucky’s voice.

“Yeah, you got me there,” Clint sighs, opening his eyes and smiling at Bucky blearily. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat at the sight, and suddenly the events of yesterday catch up with him and his eyes get really tight and there’s a lump in his throat he can’t seem to swallow past. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Clint asks, face lined with worry.

“You were almost -” Bucky doesn’t finish, just buries his head in Clint’s chest, shaking.

“But I wasn’t,” Clint soothes, running his hands through Bucky’s hair, “I wasn’t. Almost means I’m still here, gorgeous, so you’re stuck with me a little while longer.”

“I’m never leaving you alone again,” Bucky mutters, raising his head so Clint can see his mouth moving. “I’m going to have Stark surgically attach us and then no one can ever take you from me again.”

“Well, as long as he attaches us the fun way,” Clint winks, and then the fucker gooses Bucky’s ass. Bucky yelps and bites Clint’s chest in retaliation. “I’ve got no problems with your dick being the only one up my ass for the rest of our lives.”

Bucky blinks. He looks up at Clint, shocked. There’s a little bit of every emotion running through Clint’s face and he lets Bucky see them all. Hope, resignation, joy, fear - they’re all there. “Clinton Francis Barton,” Bucky says. Clint’s face lights up. “That was the worst goddamn marriage proposal I have ever heard in my life.”

Clint blinks at him, grinning. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes, you moron. I’d love to only put my dick up your ass for the rest of our lives too.” Bucky grins as Clint kisses him, so happy he can barely breathe. Their teeth clack together and they’re both smiling stupidly, but it’s probably the best kiss they’ve ever had.

“You’re telling Steve,” Clint murmurs against his lips.

Bucky grins, pressing kisses to Clint’s face. “Fine,” he says, “but you’re telling Nat.”

Clint groans. “Oh, she’s going to hate the way I asked. Like, hate it so much I might get stabbed. She might kill me, babe.” He stares up at Bucky with pleading eyes and Bucky laughs brightly.

“There’s no might about it, sweetheart,” he says, still grinning - why can’t he stop smiling? - “She is going to kill you. Hopefully we can convince her to wait until after the wedding.”

“We won’t have to convince her,” Clint groans, “Nat loves weddings. She’ll bottle up her rage until the second we are married for realsies and then she’ll just kill me. No hesitation.”

Bucky laughs. “We could always elope,” he suggests.

Clint stares at him in horror. “Then she would kill both of us! And Steve would help!” They collapse into giggles at the thought.

Bucky knocks his forehead against Clint’s collarbone once they’ve settled down and sighs. “Marriage. _Fuck_.”

“Fuck indeed,” Clint agrees. And that. That right there is why Bucky loves this man. Because no matter how terrified he’s feeling about this, he knows that Clint will be right beside him. Now, and for the rest of their lives.

“Love you, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly.

Clint snorts. “You damn well better love me, we’re getting married!”

~~~~~~

Bucky’s not sure when his life had gotten so domestic. The dirty socks on the floor and wet towels in the bathroom, Bucky could live without. The half-finished arrowheads scattered all over the house, he could _definitely_ live without - he nearly blew his foot off when he kicked an explosive arrowhead across the room by accident.

(Clint made a crack about him being evenly matched and Bucky punched him, but they were both laughing.)

But waking up to the same person every day would never get old, and Bucky loved making Clint coffee in the morning. He loved watching the sunsets from the porch swing, Clint tucked into his side. He loved the hide and seek sessions they played in the woods (Bucky still doesn’t believe Clint could climb a tree that fast) and he definitely loved the family meals where everyone came over.

Steve and Tony always argued about who should do the dishes afterwards - Steve thinks they should all pitch in, Tony just wants to build them a robot. Every time, Bucky nixes the robot, and every time, he nearly caves to Clint’s puppy eyes. One of these days, Clint is going to team up with Steve and they’re going to cause chaos.

Thor always brings some obscure Asgardian animal he had killed and ends up eating the whole thing by himself - because nobody wants another case of extraterrestrial food poisoning again.

Natasha - well, Nat is actually a perfect houseguest, aside from the various listening devices Bucky always finds and destroys the next morning. But she does that to test his skills and out of love, so Bucky lets it go.

Bruce always brings them a new plant and Bucky just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he ends up killing them all, to Clint’s horror. The day Bruce comes over with a plastic plant and a wry grin nearly sends Bucky to tears, he’s laughing so hard. “I’m going to see how long it takes Clint to notice it’s not real,” he says to Bruce, who just laughs and shakes his head.

Bucky’s family is loud, irritating, and most of the time at least one of them is trying to kill him. Or maim him. Or beat him. Occasionally there are explosions.

But as he looks out over the farm from the front porch, and sees his husband jogging towards him (shirtless, might Bucky add, and god _damn,_ he scored one hot as hell man) Bucky knows one thing with absolute certainty.

He wouldn’t change it for the world.


End file.
